Dear Mr Colbert

Or can I call you Stephen? After all we are nearly neighbors. When I'm in New Jersey and you're in New Jersey we are only a few miles apart. Or so I assume. I know you live in the next town over but I don't know your address and Google won't give it to me. Not that I was going to come to your house and bother you, I wasn't, but I hear you give out great Halloween candy, are cool with decorations and you're never too old to go trick or treating.  (Do you give out full sized?  You should you know, you are a celebrity.)

 I just want to say how sorry I am, like the majority of the world is, to see your show go off the air. It is a sad sad day (actually it's been a sad sad decade when you look at the majority of it but I don't want to go there) when pissed off politicians masquerading as leaders decide to silence one of the most popular television shows out there. And I'm not just talking about late night. You are beloved.  I think/hope you know that.

 Life sucks. I hate to say it but when I look around that's what I have to say. However, you brought laughter and levity into the suckiness. And you did it with kindness and grace. Or at least that's how it seems to me. 

 Now I'll admit I didn't watch your show very often. It's not that I didn't like it. It's not that I don't like you. It's that I'm up most mornings at 4:00 which means I am nowhere near conscious at 11:30 at night. However, I often caught your shows highlights. That viewing habit would never have saved your show.  I'm also an "old lady" (although not as old as you!), and no one really cares about what I or women of my age watch.  (Although they should!) 

 More importantly, when I was having a rough night, particularly when I was home alone in New Jersey, you were the one I could turn to. When I was restless and unable to sleep I just had to turn on The Late Show with Stephen Colbert (I never even thought to turn into "the others," not even the "handsome Jimmy") and I would feel better. I wouldn't sleep, but I would feel better. And that's important.

 But more important than your television show is that I think I understand you really are. (At least from everything I've read/seen.) A good, kind, compassionate, caring person. A true Christian...no make that a follower of Christ because let's face it a bunch of F***wads has co-opted that word and turned it into something that it isn't. You are the kind of human being that this world needs more of.  A human with humanity. The kind of human being that this world screams out for in the midst of all the chaos and crap that has been thrust upon us. Your show was an inspiration because you are an inspiration. And because you surrounded yourself with good people like yourself.

Which is why you should get to know me because I try to be like that too.  (Although I don't know if I could EVER be as gracious as you OR your wife.)  Actually, you should get to know my son because you are very much alike especially in compassion and charity.  I'd say that's rare in a 20-something, but it's rare in any age.  I know the two of you would get along and...Well my son is going to be graduating from college next year and searching for a job in the arts world and being "that mom" I think a connection with you would really give him a leg up.  (See, I told you I wasn't as good a person as I'd like to be.)

 Speaking of my amazing son (I'm sorry, I can't help but brag), both of us watched your final show.  He at home in NJ and me at home in PA.  (We have two houses...it's a long story, but you can catch up on it all if you go back and read all of my blog posts...I've only been doing this for 13 years and you'd only have to read 1,834 posts [as of today] to get complete insight into me.)  He probably watched on his phone; I watched on the little television (the one that used to be in my parent's bedroom at the NJ shore) after having issues with EVERY SINGLE OTHER TV in the house.)  So even though we were miles apart, you tied us together that night.  Thank you.

 I wish my family had been at your final show.  Now that would have been cool.  Funnily enough the last time I was in the marvelous Ed Sullivan Theater was to see your final guest.  (Great choice by the way, I wish the Pope didn't have to be such a Diva, but I suppose he did have a point about the hot dogs; the pontiff deserved better catering.)  And that's a long story which I won't bore you with.  (At least not now.)  Back then Sir Paul was singing about Big Boys Bickering (and I swore he said "muck" and not that other word); last night's tribute to you, your staff and all that the Ed Sullivan Theater has stood for, was spot on.  How could it not be?  

 So Steve (can I call you Steve?  Did I tell you that it's my husband's name too?), now that you are off the air, there will be no one to make me feel better in the middle of the night.  That makes me sad.  It also makes me angry and this once incredibly loyal CBS viewer has given up all things CBS.  (Which is heartbreaking when you consider how many hours I spent watching CBS News for decades.)  But being angry or filling my heart with hatred will get me nowhere.  As you said:  "Be kind to people. Not because they're nice, but because you are."  Maybe I won't always succeed, but I will try.

 Another chapter in your life has closed.  We all know another one awaits and we can't wait to see what it is.  (If it's another tv show, could you make sure that it airs earlier so I will be awake to watch it?).

 Wishing you the best.  And remember (as if you didn't already know), the words that your last guest once sang:  "And in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make."  (At least that's what I think he said...I thought I knew just about everything about Sir Paul, but then he stunned me last night with his admission of cheese and pickle sandwiches along with a margarita.  Why didn't you ask what kind of cheese? I mean, we need to know!)

 Much love and an open invitation to visit us in the Poconos.  (That is if you ever get tired of Sullivan’s Island.  I’ve never been, but I know all about it from the late, great Dorothea Benton Frank.  Maybe you knew her?  Not only was she a Carolinian like you, but she also lived in your town.  Summers have not been the same with her passing; just like late night will never be the same without you.) 

 Bfth